Hit & Run
by Prosper-the-XVIII
Summary: The first installment of the Litwak High School AU I'm writing. There was hundreds of things that could have happened to them at some point. But him not knowing who on earth she was and hating her had always seemed impossible. Until now... BradMora that gets unnecessarily angsty and sad. You may need tissues.
1. Chapter 1

**If you're not prepared for a sad ol' heap of angst then stop reading! High school AU (more will soon follow)**

**And yes, Calhoun does have to get hurt in all my stories! **

* * *

Tamora opened her eyes again as Brad broke off and slowly drew away from her out of their kiss.  
"What is it?" she asked tentatively, running her hand gently through his dark tousled hair.  
"Nothing," Brad flashed her his charming smile, pulling her closer. "Tami...you really are a dynamite gal..." he swept her back, the pair of them clogging up the sidewalk outside her house big-style, and made to kiss her again - she couldn't help but giggle a little, out of character and so un-Tamora it was ridiculous - but looked up when a loud roar of a car engine and overly-loud curse words shouted by the driver filled his ears.

Moments before the black BMW smashed into them.

* * *

Tamora screamed as unbearable agony seared up her lower half, unsure where it was coming from but unable to move anything in her legs. It felt like someone had just slammed a wrecking ball into her shins. There was the metallic taste of blood lacing her mouth; she couldn't open her eyes, and she felt someone or something - probably Brad, which worried her no end - underneath her.  
From there onwards, the world was blackness and white noise...

* * *

"Going on the driver's licence in her pocket, her name's Tamora Calhoun; she's seventeen years old and she was caught in a hit-and-run car smash along with another male of about the same age, probably her boyfriend or something, who I think might be called Brad - she kept muttering his name. We're looking at a compound fracture in her left fibula and a shattered right lower leg, tib and fib and I think most of her ligaments have torn as well in that leg. Broken nose and possible concussion.  
"He was lying underneath her; his head had cracked open off the kerb; fractured skull and major brain haemorrhage; he needs prepped for emergency surgery as soon as is physically possible. Both KO at the scene; she's on ten morphine and he's on fifteen and bloods." The blonde paramedic rang off in a monotone, not looking down at Tamora. Not knowing that Tamora could hear her, she said quietly to the nurse speed-walking beside her; "I feel real bad for her; I'm not holding hope for him making it..."

* * *

Bleep...Bleep...Bleep...Bleep

Everything basically sounded as if she were underwater. If it wasn't for pain and the ability to think, she would have thought she was dead.

Bleep...Bleep...Bleep...Bleep

Neither of her legs would move at all. She was subconsciously aware of the fact that she thought they might be in plaster and that her right foot was higher up than the rest of her body, but that really was all.  
Where was she?  
Where was Brad?  
Was he okay?  
What had happened?

* * *

Her eyes opened. She was in a hospital room, lying in bed, pain in her legs as if somebody had gone over her with a steamroller then attacked her with a staple gun. Wires were running in and out of her hands and arms. There was a needle sticking in her arm that was dripping some sort of clear liquid into her and stung like hell. Her right leg was in traction and both were heavy with thigh-length casts; she stuck her tongue out and ran it along her lip, taking in the fact that there was about four stitches in her lower lip.  
"Good, you're awake." A nurse said, leaning over her. She tried to sit up, but was rather harshly forced down by her shoulders again.  
"Wh-where am I?" She'd asked, her voice sounding as dry as a desert. "And...what- what about Brad?"  
"You're at the St. Matthews Hospital, Tamora." The nurse said, sitting down and giving her a look positively oozing with sympathy. "And as for Brad..." her voice tailed off, and Tamora automatically feared the very worst.  
"Is he okay? I gotta go see him! Please!"  
"As much as I'd like to let you, it's not physically possible. In the accident, you broke one leg and completely crushed the other; you've got to stay in bed for at least another three weeks before you can go anywhere," the nurse sighed then. "Tamora, there's something you have to hate me for doing my job, because it often entails telling people what they never want to hear. The thing is, the accident you were in was very serious, you're lucky you didn't die-"

Tamora shuddered with a spasming sob, covering her face with her hands. "No..." she whimpered, all her pain suddenly going away and being replaced by panic. "No..."  
"It isn't that, don't worry. He pulled through, but...Tamora, he landed underneath you; your legs took the full impact of the car, but his head split open when you two fell. He had to have an incredibly risky operation to put it right again, but...His brain had bled too much by the time we'd managed get him into the theatre. His mental age dropped by about sixteen and a half years; he'll have to learn how to walk, talk, use the bathroom alone, eat by himself and do just about anything again - all he responds to at the moment are changes in light and colour - and...Tamora, I doubt that he'll know who you are. He doesn't recognise his own parents. I'm sorry."

* * *

Tamora had been in hospital for a month before she got to see Brad again. She'd been allowed out of bed a week ago and she'd been taught how to manoeuvre herself about in a wheelchair - she'd be stuck in plaster for another seven weeks - but apparently he hadn't been ready.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for what she saw when she came into his room. Half of his dark hair had been shaved down to a stubble in order to operate; there was a huge row of stitches down his head, caked in black congealed blood. The brain damage he'd suffered seemed to have brought on a really bad squint; his expression was uneasy and he basically looked really confused and maybe a bit derpy, though she thought that that was a rather cruel thing to say.  
"Brad?" She said quietly, in the manner that you'd talk to a child in. "Hi, baby-"  
He hit at her with limp wrists. "W'ah uh? G'wayh!"  
"Brad, honey, it's me. Tamora."  
"G'wayh!" he shouted again, throwing himself about, sweat dampening his forehead, making her heart hurt. he hit out at her again, and her hand flew to her mouth as she tasted blood and felt a sharp sting in that area.

As a nurse said slowly it'd be best if she went back to her own room and wheeled her out, she realized that he'd torn a stitch out of her lip and it was gushing blood all over her white pyjama shirt, but she didn't care.

The sky could have fallen on her head; her world could have crumbled around her, but without her other half, her Brad, she could never stand tall (well, right now she couldn't stand at all) and face anything ever again. She felt broken. Dead.

Whoever had done this to them, him in particular, she wanted to sue them for everything that they had. This wasn't fair.

And she hated that Brad didn't know her. She knew that their love was over, and how? A stupid drunk driver that had taken everything from her.

It wasn't fair.


	2. Chapter 2

Between not wanting to go anywhere - she was now feeling far too agoraphobic for her own good, there was an enormous Brad-shaped hole in her heart that burned like fire whenever she stepped onto the kerb outside her house where...it had happened and perhaps a teeny bit paranoid - and not actually being physically able to - going out and doing stuff (other than shopping, which she tried to avoid at all costs) with both legs in plaster was just a tad difficult - for the past couple of months, Tamora had been stranded in her room, a thousand miles and poles apart from what seemed like anyone, watching James Bond films and various other sad chick-flick type after you've watched it about a million times, Tamora had discovered, you still can't watch Forrest Gump without breaking down in uncontrollable floods of tears. That was around all she'd learned in eight weeks without school.

And now she was back; as much black eye makeup and leather as ever, but thankfully back on her own feet. She stepped onto the school bus for what felt like the first time in ages, and not more than a second later was being flooded by annoying questions and voices.

"Like, OMG, Tamora, have you been online, like, at all? Why haven't you, like, responded to my tweets?" Taffyta drawled, dressed in her usual garish pink attire and her lipstick-slicked mouth turned down in a scowl.  
"Wowzers, what even happened? I've heard rumors, but I'm not sure what's true. Did Brad, like, die or is he just...retarded?" Rancis, the only boy she knew who carried a compact mirror, squinted at her, expecting an answer despite the blunt insensitivity of his question.  
"My god, did it really hurt?" Irritating new girl Kim Possible was still...well... irritating. And stupid.  
"Hey, Tam!" The somewhat high-pitched voice of her best friend, Vanellope, called out, waving manically. Tamora raised an eyebrow when she realized that her usual seat was occupied by Vanellope's back-up best friend, Ralph 'Wreck-it' Reilly. "Sorry, I woulda saved you a seat, but...I didn't know you were coming today!"  
"Hiya, Sarge," 'Sarge' was Tamora's nickname given by Vanellope (Ralph was 'Stink Brain'or 'Wreck-It' and Vanellope herself was 'Mr President') which most of the class had adopted for her. It was something to do with her being like a character from a first-person shooter game called Hero's Duty. "H...How's Brad?" Ralph. Cack-Hands himself had done it again. His attempt at kindness was what tore it. Her face contorted into a grimace of sheer agony and she was now trying not to cry. There was all number of curses she could have screamed, all manner of abuse she could have thrown, but nothing would leave her lips. She eventually forced out some kind of strangled gasp that sounded vaguely like;

"SHUDDUP!"  
A slight pause at what she'd somehow managed to say resulted in Uproar: Part II.  
"Yeah, like, what if we don't?" Candlehead sneered at her, glancing for approval from Taffyta. "We just wanna know what happened!"  
"Well, obviously she doesn't want to talk about it!" A voice was heard as Candlehead was clobbered over the head with a notebook from behind. "You're just being stupid and insensitive, all of you, and she clearly wants you to just quit it!"  
"Thanks, Fix-It," 5'1" and full of fun, Ralph's best friend Felix Parcell had once again put his neck out for Tamora. She mulled over why he did this in her head, but her train of thought was snapped off when she realized that she'd subconsciously sat next to him.

The vehicle jolted and began to move again. Tamora was drained white as she stared at the small B-shaped pendant hanging around her neck, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Felix turned to her, gently trying to prise her hand off of his thigh. She'd realized that her knuckles were white, gripping whatever her hand had been on. Strange; in the accident she'd been hit by the car, not in it, but she was still terrified.  
"Oh. Sorry."  
"'S alright, Tami-" Felix put his hand over his mouth when he noticed her expression. Why in the holy hotcakes had he called her that? "Jiminy jaminy, I'm so sorry! I forgot that he... Felix, shut up!" he muttered incoherently to himself. "Look, it just slipped out, I'm sorry. Dammit, why did I do that, excuse my potty mouth," he face-palmed, gritting his teeth.  
"Calm down, Felix, it's okay," Tamora sighed, realizing that she'd been using the tone she used around Brad nowadays when trying to calm him down. Just because he hadn't the faintest clue who she was didn't mean that she didn't go see him. She was staring down at her phone, surfing through a long-ignored Twitter feed.

_' __TaffytaLaBelle__ - OMGSH i feel soooooo sorry 4 u! Stay sweet & keep strong, hunni! 33xx'_

_' __RFlugButt1__ - -__BradScottxTami__ was a cool guy. Gonna miss him. Hope ur gettin better :) #Bromance'_

_' __CandleheadCupkakez__ - Where r uz i miss u! #RUStillAlive'_

_' __VannieVonSchweetz__ - I'm gonna miss Brad. Hope ur gonna be back at school soon, Tam! luv ya like a sistah! #SistahFromAnuthaMistah''_

_' __RalphtheWr3cker__ - Stay strong, __SargeTamora114__! Missin havin u guyz around - wut a way 4 BradMora to hav crashed & burned! Sorry, not helping :'( #soz'_

"My gosh, some people really are emotionless!" Felix gasped, reading over her shoulder. "I wish people weren't like that. Losing a loved one is hard enough without others sticking their noses in. Tamora, truly, I'm sorry about what happened. It'll get better in time, I promise. Brad really will get stronger over time; he'll get to know you again as long as you persevere. Sure, he might be a little more like having a younger kid brother than a boyfriend, but...Look, I'm not helping, I'll just stop talking-"  
If it'd been anyone else, Tamora would have barked at them to shut their chew hole and go away. But she gave a half-smile. "It helped a lot more than you'd think..."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Brick by boring brick, Tamora began getting back into the swing of her life. Bluntly insensitive questions and comments from interfering morons like Taffyta and general idiots like Derpy Hooves were something she'd grown accustomed to, even if they did on occasion bring a tear to her eye, such as the time that Candlehead had rather meanly stolen her phone and set her ringtone to 'My Heart Will go on' or people kept claiming to forget what had happened and forced her to rattle through her depressing version of events once again.

Despite the fact that she hadn't wanted to, she'd grown too close for comfort to Felix.

"Too soon?" Taffyta fell about laughing as she heard Tamora's answer to Felix's prom invitation. "Too SOON? We, like, in a movie or something? 'Felix, my _darling_, I would love to go to prom with you, but my boyfriend hasn't been a retard for long enough for my heart to heal!' Oh my god!" She was leaning against a row of lockers cackling, tears streaming down her face. "I'm gonna die, this is too funny!"

"Come over here and say that, Muttonfudge, see how well that works out for you," Tamora turned her head towards the fake blonde, who was now starting to flatten herself against a row of lockers in obvious fear of the six-foot tall football athlete now ganging up on her. Her facade meant that Tamora had to defend her wounded pride the exact same way she would have if Brad had been by her side, cracking jokes and stroking her neck the way he used to, instead of a now cowering Felix, taken aback by the sudden outbreak of a bitch-fight, but all she wanted do was hide away in a darkened corner of her room and cry in the company of a two-liter carton of ice cream. That currently wasn't an option.

Grabbing Taffyta by the collar of her garish magenta baseball jacket, Tamora had her right in a perfect position with no cameras, teachers or tell-tale freshmans to witness, but as she made to throw a fist right into Taffyta's fake tanned, smug little face, she stopped. She had to guess that everything was funnier from where they all stood, because from where she was she missed the joke. She wished they'd clear the way from her crash landing, instead of turning it into a joke; yet another thing to hold against her as if her height, build and her general air that made people inclined to think she was a lesbian wasn't enough. She'd be smiling if she wasn't so desperate, and patient if she had nearly enough time. She would stop and answer all of their questions if she had been brave enough, but first she just had to figure out how to move from the back of the line. And this wasn't how to do it. She was just a clown on their favorite channel by making a fool of herself the way she was right now, her life a circus going round and round in a circle and selling out every night, and that had to change. She let Taffyta go.

"You know what? Just go ahead and laugh. Because this whole thing is funny- hell, I'd be laughing too if I saw me! I don't care any more!" Letting go of the arrogant teenager's jacket and allowing her to scamper off and probably tweet about the whole episode, Tamora sighed. "All I can say is I hope she doesn't procreate. Last thing we need is next-gen Taffytas dictating the universe." Felix nodded in agreement, his eyes blurry with admiration and his cheeks flushed red. "Hey, your face's gone red. You okay?"  
"Wha- yeah, totally," Felix looked flustered, placing a hand to the back of his neck and toying with the label of his shirt the way that he always had when he got nervous. "Can I just say...you are one dynamite gal..."

Tamora's jaw dropped and her eyes shattered like glass.

One dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...It was repeating over and over again in her head, the words, the incident, the flash of headlights, the screech of tyres, the searing pain in her legs. One dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...one dynamite gal...MAKE IT STOP!

"Go away," Tamora looked to the floor, hurt in her voice and tears that no-one could see in her eyes.

"B-but all I said was you're a dynamite-"  
"Just BACK. THE HELL. OFF." she breathed out, her voice wracked with sobs. "Go away. Please."


End file.
